


Violet Wand

by Josselin



Series: Laurent Is a Girl [14]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Consensual Sibling Incest, F/M, Laurent is a girl, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Violet Wand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24372811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: There was a showy bit with the violet wand, where the actor waved it around for show and made sparks fly between the wand and his own hand.Auguste could tell Laurent was interested, because she was squirming all over on top of him as she watched.
Relationships: Auguste/Laurent (Captive Prince), Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Series: Laurent Is a Girl [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1217892
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	Violet Wand

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Mist for a speedy beta read!

He’d been thinking about it for a while when he first looked it up online, reading about how it worked and then carefully clicking some links and watching, pressing back if he didn’t like what he saw. It could be any number of things he didn’t like about a particular video, from a model’s makeup to the setting of the scene to the quality of the lighting, but when she came up beside him he was watching one of the scenes that he did like.

Laurent rolled onto the bed and pressed right up next to him--Laurent had never understood personal space--and craned over his shoulder. “What are you watching?”

He tilted the tablet so she could see, not displeased to share it with her. If his suspicions were correct, showing her was the first step toward trying it.

Laurent took one of his earbuds and put it in her own ear, lying half on top of him and resting her chin on his shoulder to see the screen.

The scene was just starting, the male actor had just finished checking the female actor’s restraints, and now that she was satisfactorily in position, he had taken out some of the equipment. 

There was a showy bit with the violet wand, where the actor waved it around for show and made sparks fly between the wand and his own hand.

Auguste could tell Laurent was interested, because she was squirming all over on top of him as she watched. “Is that--?” she said.

Auguste made a noise of agreement.

They watched for a few minutes more. Auguste didn’t love the fake cries the female actor gave as the other actor began to apply the wand, and he turned down the volume. 

That didn’t seem to detract from either of their focus. Auguste had watched the video before, so at least half of his attention was on Laurent’s reactions behind him, rather than on the scene. Laurent’s hand was resting on his forearm, clutching a little bit when the woman cried out, and her body was tense against his back. 

“Is he going to--” Laurent said, but Auguste didn’t have to reply. In the video, the man slid the violet wand inside of the woman, eliciting what Auguste thought were the only genuine vocal reactions of the entire scene. Laurent hissed. Auguste suppressed a smile. Step one of the plan was working exactly as he’d hoped.

“Do you have--” Laurent started, rolling off his back and glancing around the room like he might have left a toy like that out in the open.

Auguste stopped the video and nodded. He’d placed an order the week before. 

Laurent took the earbud out of her ear. “Get it,” she said.

Auguste tilted his head toward the wall, because on the other side of the wall was the kitchen, and in the kitchen was Damen.

Laurent pursed her lips. “He’ll want to talk about it.” That was Damen’s response to any kind of sex that seemed painful, or potentially dangerous, or both.

“Take your pants off,” Auguste said, and Laurent began stripping. “He’s not going to be here this weekend,” Auguste continued. “You can be patient until then.” He reached over to rummage in the trunk where they stored their toys.

“But I--” Laurent objected, sitting on the bed in just her bra, having shed her pants and underwear and shirt already. 

“Pretend,” Auguste suggested, taking out a glass dildo that he didn’t use on her frequently enough. By the time Damen had finished with the dishes and joined them in the bedroom, the tablet had fallen off the bed onto the floor and neither of them mentioned the video or what had started their encounter. 

Laurent was clearly thinking about it, though. On Friday, she cornered Auguste in the bathroom as he finished shaving, and said, imperiously, “Send me the link.” She was about to get into the shower, and only wearing a towel.

She was probably bored of all the tripe that came up through searches, Auguste thought, which was understandable, but he wasn’t inclined to be helpful. He turned toward her. “Bend over.”

There was a moment, and a flash of something in her eyes--the flash that always appeared, while she was thinking about if she wanted to do what he said, or not--and then, with an exaggerated flourish of indulgence, she bent and rested her forearms on the bathroom counter next to him. She looked up at him in the mirror, through her lashes, and her facial expression was appropriately submissive and the tone of her voice was anything but.

“I want to watch that video.”

Auguste was still holding his razor, having just finished shaving, and he ran it up the back of Laurent’s leg carefully, from behind her knee to the curve of her ass, with just enough pressure to be a warning. Then he set it on the counter and followed the same path with his fingertips. He let his fingers stray from the top of her ass to between her legs, and leaned over her to make eye contact in the mirror.

“No,” he said. 

Laurent opened her mouth to object, but he didn’t let her.

“Damen’s leaving for bakery camp tomorrow,” Auguste said.

“It’s a culinary conference--” Laurent objected, so he pinched her inner thigh.

“So fuck him tonight, make sure he gets off, and once he’s gone, you’re not going to need to watch a video,” he let his voice be dismissive, leaving Laurent bent over the counter.

Damen left the next morning. Laurent had gotten him off the night before, as directed, and she’d even bonus fucked him sleepily, in the middle of the night--Auguste had woken slightly to the two of them rocking beside him--and she’d gotten out of bed early to fuck Damen again in the shower, and then kiss him goodbye sweetly at the door, wearing just her robe.

Auguste heard the door closing, and Laurent locking it, and then he heard her footsteps as she ran down the hall, and he felt the bed rock as she jumped in next to him. 

“He’s gone,” Laurent said, dragging Auguste’s blanket off of him. “Come on.”

“No foreplay?” Auguste said.

“You only care about foreplay when you’re trying to annoy me,” Laurent said, shedding her robe. “I want to try it, come on.” 

Her hair was still wet. Auguste put a hand into it and pulled her down on top of him, kissing her. 

She moved around a bit, until she got one of her thighs between his legs, and then she kissed him agreeably enough for another few minutes, teasing his cock with her thigh and riding his leg while they made out. 

He reached a hand down to grope at her, eventually, his fingers finding their way between her legs. 

“You’re wet,” he observed. Laurent kissed him again. “You’re such a slut, the very idea turns you on--”

Laurent made a noise, which might have been an objection to him calling her a slut, or might have been attempting to argue the point that she’d let Damen come in her once already that morning, which could explain the slickness but didn’t really change the notion that she was a slut. 

“Lie on your back,’ he told her, and detoured through the bathroom to wash his hands before he went to the toy box. 

Laurent was lying on her back, though she wasn’t being particularly obedient about it. He looked at her for a moment. He had so many different feelings when he looked at her, sometimes. Sometimes he saw her without really looking, noticing that she was there but taking her for granted because she was always there. But when he actually stopped to look at her and take her in, it was sometimes overwhelming. She was so beautiful. He wanted to touch her, to be a little rough with her and see marks start to form on her skin, to tie her up and admire her and have the opportunity be even rougher without her moving so much--he wanted, sometimes, to build a tasteful sex dungeon and then keep Laurent in it forever--and yet, at the same time, he felt terribly protective of her, and wanted to bundle her up and not let anyone touch her, ever, least of all himself. 

Laurent was losing patience and was craning her head to look. “I want to see, let me--”

He turned the wand on to its lowest setting and touched it to her calf. 

She yelped, and drew her leg away. “It tickles!”

That was an interesting discovery, and he spent a few minutes tickling her mercilessly with the wand until she tackled him, and he dropped the toy and they ended up wrestling on the bed. 

He ended up on his back, with Laurent straddling his waist. Her hair was still wet from her shower with Damen and was messy around her face from rolling all over the bed. “I win,” she pronounced.

He rolled his eyes at her.

Laurent reached to the side and picked up the toy. She looked at it for a few minutes, at the cord reaching off to the outlet in the wall, and at the grip on the base of it, and at the glass wand extending off of the base. She moved the palm of her other hand closer to the wand, until sparks jumped between her hand and the wand, and she had a thinking expression on her face.

She lowered the wand, and brought it closer to her own thigh, and drew it up her own leg, which seemed to tickle her less when she was the one controlling it, since she didn’t squirm all over the bed this time, and just rocked her hips gently. She was smearing wetness all over Auguste’s stomach, which half made him want to eat her out and half wanted made him want to wipe her down.

Laurent got a conniving expression, and then she lowered the wand down and drew it along Auguste’s bicep, watching him. 

He knew what it felt like--he had tested it out, when it had first arrived, when she and Damen had been out on some errand together--the sensation waking up his skin and causing his muscle to twitch.

He was less ticklish than she was, or less surprised, so she lost interest in using it on him after a minute and pouted, instead. “I thought we were going to play,” she said.

So he dumped her off his stomach and back onto the bed. “Put your hands over your head.”

She looked at him, narrow-eyed, trying to tell if he was going to tickle her again. 

He caught her eye, and then, deliberately, turned the dial on the base of the wand up a notch.

Laurent made a snow angel movement on the bed that ended with her arms stretched up over her head.

“Good,” he said, approval warm in his tone. Laurent arched a little bit, prettily. He shifted around on the bed to be next to her, and then he started, again, with her calf, drawing patterns on her left leg, and then tracing a similar pattern on her right leg. “Turn over,” he said, and she rolled away from him on the bed, staying stretched out, but it gave him better access with the wand that way, perfect to draw along the back of her legs, all the way up to the curve of her ass. 

He liked the way her ass looked. Her skin was creamy and didn’t have any blemishes. She was still hairless from the last time he had waxed her a few days prior. There was a vague set of fingerprint bruises on her left ass cheek, which seemed to indicate that Damen had been slightly rougher than he usually was with her. Auguste touched the wand to each of the finger prints, and Laurent made a noise. 

He turned the dial on the base of the wand up, and then he did it again. Laurent made a louder noise.

She turned onto her back again, and he teased the wand over her stomach and her breasts, his eyes torn between the light flashing against her skin and watching the expressions on her face. She had lost the giggly squirming of when he had been tickling her, and now her gaze was unfocused, her movements undulating. 

Auguste lingered with the toy against one of her breasts, torn between conflicting impulses. He half wanted to forget the toy and just get on top of her and fuck her, his cock was so hard and he knew she was wet and open and ready. The other half of him desperately wanted to try putting the wand inside of her, that had been his favorite part of the video.

Laurent settled his internal debate by begging. “Auguste, put it inside of me.”

“Hold your legs up,” he told her. She put her hands on the back of her knees and drew her legs back toward her chest, spread wide shamelessly, the way she did when Damen was going down on her and Auguste worried she was going to kick him in the head. Damen didn’t seem to have the same fear. 

“Close your eyes,” he told her, and once her eyes had fluttered shut, he reluctantly adjusted the dial down on the wand, and then he teased along her inner thigh, moving inward, brushing the tip of the wand against the furl of her asshole, before he dipped the tip inside of her.

“Oh--” Laurent said, sounding desperate, “--more--”

Auguste slid it in a bit deeper, angling to try to find her G spot, she was so sensitive there, and then as Laurent gave a cry he suspected he had found it. He moved the wand inside of her for a moment, pressing against her G spot and then moving away in a tease. Laurent’s abdominal muscles were contracted tightly. 

Finally, he couldn’t resist trying it, and he turned the dial on the base of the wand up to the same setting he’d been using before he inserted it, and pressed again firmly against her G spot. Laurent curled her toes and shouted and orgasmed, squirting.

Auguste watched, fascinated. He’d never fully shared Damen’s fascination with making Laurent squirt--it took forever, usually, and seemed like it involved him doing a disproportionate amount of the work and Laurent having a disproportionate amount of the enjoyment. But this was compelling, somehow. Laurent was whimpering as he drew the wand out of her, and then he turned it off and tossed it aside, and she was still gaspy crying when he pushed his pajama pants off, used one hand to position his cock, and slid into her.

Laurent moaned as he sunk in, she might still be orgasming, he thought--still, or again, at the pressure on her G spot again from the penetration. He touched her face, gently, with one hand, but then he took his hand away to brace himself, because he he couldn’t bring himself to care about Laurent, all that much, because he was fucking her hard, desperate to come, his mind full of ideas for next time. 

What if he put the wand in her ass while he fucked her, he thought, thrusting in hard and then grinding his hips in a circle, considering. Or, he could fuck her ass and use the wand on her G spot, she would probably love it, and he loved the clutch of her ass when she came around him. And Laurent was still speechless, and it was even a rare enough pleasure to fuck her without her making all kinds of requests or demands, and he finished with a particularly firm thrust, and then held himself deep inside of her while he could feel his cock pulsing.

Laurent stayed speechless for at least twenty minutes, afterward, which Auguste thought was probably a record for when she wasn’t sleeping, and then she sat up on the bed. The bed was filthy, Auguste observed, and thought about changing all of the sheets.

“I want to do it again,” Laurent said. “Where did you put it?”

“I want to try putting it in your ass,” Auguste said.

“Oh, fuck,” Laurent said, falling back against the bed, “Come on!”

Damen’s bakery camp only lasted the weekend, but they made the most of it. On Saturday, they only left the bedroom because Auguste wanted to tie Laurent up with the bondage equipment they had in the workout room. 

Sunday, they repeated their favorites from the day before, which included fucking Laurent in the ass while he used the wand on her and made her come, twice. Sunday afternoon, Auguste had showered and was trying to change the sheets on the bed and Laurent was starfished across them and refusing to move. “I’m never moving again,” she proclaimed.

“Go take a shower,” he told her.

“No,” she said, not moving.

He slapped her ass. “Damen’s going to be here in thirty minutes,” he told her. “You need to give him a warm welcome.”

Laurent’s usual response to seeing Damen when she hadn’t in a while--a while being any amount of time greater than a couple hours, really--was to jump into his arms, start making out with him, and then insist that he carry her to the bed. She was really enormously spoiled.

Laurent was still in the shower when Damen came in the door, smelling of baked goods, so she didn’t rush up to meet him, and Auguste pressed a leisurely kiss to his lips instead. “How was it?”

Damen started talking about some sort of new pastry technique as he walked into the bedroom to change, but he stopped talking when he got into the bedroom because Laurent was coming out of the shower, naked, and that was enough to get Damen to pick her up and carry her to the bed, even without her usual demands.

Auguste listened from outside the room, because sometimes he liked Laurent getting it from Damen as much as he liked giving it to her himself. 

Damen was full of sweet words, about how beautiful Laurent was, and how much he missed her when he was away for the weekend. Full of offers, also, to go down on her, which Laurent declined--Auguste smiled wickedly in the hallway--and there was fortunately then not too much foreplay before Auguste could hear Damen groaning as he sunk inside of her. 

Laurent was whimpering a little bit, again. 

“Are you okay?” Damen said. He was so considerate.

Laurent made a noise. “Sensitive,” she said.

“What did he do to you?” Damen said. He wasn’t offering to stop fucking her, Auguste noted. Auguste was sure he would, if she said, but he wasn’t quite a gentleman enough to suggest it.

“He kept making me squirt.”

There was a pause, like Damen had stilled, reacting to how out of character that probably seemed. Auguste laughed silently in the hallway, and then Auguste could hear him move again.


End file.
